Clockwork Dream
by cor aut mors
Summary: When Gemma meets Charlie Weasley in their first year at Hogwarts, they clash straight away. As they get older and feelings start to get involved, their relationships becomes more complicated. Charlie/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe.

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**Full Summary:** Considered a blood traitor by the rest of the pureblood Black family, Gemma and her sister were raised to think for themselves. When Gemma meets Charlie Weasley in their first year at Hogwarts, they clash straight away. As they get older and feelings start to get involved, their relationships becomes more complicated.

**Pairings:** Charlie Weasley/OC, several OC/OC ships.

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**Author's Note:** Nothin' much to say here, except read and review please. Feed me~

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The spell hit me full in the face before I could even squeak, swear, or relentlessly chew out the prat that'd fired off the hex. His stupid freckled face should not have been the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, my face feeling exceedingly hot and rather like I'd dunked my head into a pot of boiling water just for kicks.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," the redheaded boy said awkwardly, holding his hand out to me before drawing it back and then extending again, twisting his wand in the grip of his other hand. I blinked up at the sky, wondering if this was a sign. I'd only just stepped off the train. It was my first year. Impressions were instant and I'd be damned if, for the next seven years, these people would know me as the girl who got met with a rogue spark fired from the backside of someone's wand. I pushed myself up as this thought occurred to me, sweeping my now tangled hair out of my face.

Nymphadora was shoving her way towards me, where I was sitting on the platform at Hogsmeade Station, everyone else piling off the train either slowing down to gawk at me or just giving me one brief, sympathetic look before continuing off the platform. My second-cousin, with her vibrantly neon green hair styled into rough spikes, gave me a huge grin. The tie of her uniform was completely crooked and the socks she wore weren't regulation grey but knee-high and printed with smug, smiling cats.

"What happened?" she drawled, lifting her eyebrows at me and the stocky redheaded boy who was backing away slowly as though distancing himself from what he'd caused. "Where'd your eyebrows go, Gem?"

"My-" My hands flew up to my face and I brushed my fingers across my brow, my eyes blowing wide when I realized my eyebrows had been singed. "You blasted off my eyebrows, you moron!" I yelped at the boy who'd hexed me, glowering maliciously as Tonks grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I wrestled myself from her grip and pushed the boy, prodding him hard in the chest. He was bigger than me, and even though he looked just as young as Tonks and I, there was a very real and significant height difference. Still, it was extremely satisfying when he quailed and looked around for help before his bright blue eyes settled worriedly onto my face again, gazing at where my eyebrows _used_ to be.

"It's not that bad," he tried to argue. He pointed and gave an almost amused smile, but there's no way he found this funny, because if he did I'd have to turn him inside out. "There's still a bit of fuzz there."

"Fuzz!" I said angrily, stomping my foot. "How rutting spectacular! That makes me feel so much better." I pursed my lips and glared at the boy. "Here, hold still. Let me burn off your bloody eyebrows." I reached into the pocket of my robes and drew out my wand, grabbing the boy by the front of his uniform as I brandished my wand in his face.

He balked, his jaw turning slack like a broken hinge as he looked cross-eyed at my wand (elm, dragon heartstring at its core, and completely inflexible). Considering the situation I would've been more than happy to poke the kid right in the eye, but someone snatched me by the cuff of my collar and pulled me away from the redhead.

"Hey- gerroff me!" the boy was crying, being manhandled by the same person who'd grabbed me, a look of angry indignation on his face. I looked up at the figure, too, noting the dark curly hair and brown eyes. He was much older than me, and my eyes fell to the badge pinned to the front of his school sweater. I had a feeling I might be in some trouble.

The morning had been so wonderful up until now. Tonks had slept over and we'd spent the whole night whispering and laughing, my cousin morphing her features to pull eerily accurate impressions of our family. When she did Bellatrix, she somehow captured the manic insanity in her eyes.

My parents had driven the two of us to King's Cross Station and saw us off onto the train for our first year at Hogwarts, a moment we'd been waiting for since we were old enough to talk. I'd always heard about the glory of Slytherin House growing up; every Black in the history of our family had been a Slytherin at Hogwarts. All except Sirius. He was the first, I think, to be anything else, and he just had to be a Gryffindor, setting off everything about our family that was intolerant and mean. His mother, my Aunt Walburga, had always been a small and petty woman but the hatred she felt for the person her eldest son was growing up to be had become her most volatile aspect.

I was only a kid when Sirius had been kicked out of his house and disowned, stricken from the family tree like a rotting branch that a gardener ruthlessly shears away. Even now that he was in Azkaban, for something I couldn't believe he did, his mother and brother tried their best to forget his existence. But before the death of Lily and James Potter, before the only shred of Peter Pettigrew found was his severed finger, my father suffered the same treatment as Sirius. He gave his nephew, my cousin, money to support himself when he left Hogwarts two years ago. Aunt Walburga began to treat our side of the family like pariahs and lepers. But my sister and I didn't mind not being forced into uncomfortable dinners at 12 Grimmauld Place, and my father only laughed it off and kept on doing exactly what he'd always done.

But being a Black wasn't half as bad as being an excommunicated Black. The status was dirty and low and after the first few jabs and insults from the other kids in the magical neighborhood I grew up in, I decided that the first person to open their fat mouth would get my fist shoved down their throat. Tonks would never hit someone just for being mean, but she was more level-headed than me, and a lot more easy-going. She was also friendly, way friendlier, the kind of girl who'd drop a grudge within minutes just because it burned up too much energy to be furious. We were closer than sisters, Tonks and I, closer than me and my own sister, Despoine. Dez wasn't all bad. She was just... she could be a little stuck up. Between us there was an age difference that spanned more than a decade, and in that time I think she forgot how to be young and carefree.

She wasn't there that September 1st to see Tonks and I off. Dez was, more than likely, at work, in the magical communications department of the Ministry. She'd started interning there right out of Hogwarts. I hadn't missed her, but having a sister who didn't give a rat's tiny arse about me was just one more thing that soured my mood that day.

* * *

"What happened to you?" the prefect asked me, raising his eyebrows as though mocking my lack thereof. I wrinkled my nose in annoyance and folded my arms across my chest in a huff, deciding not to respond. The boy then looked at the redhead, who was struggling against the older boy's grip on his robes. I gave him a disdainful look, realizing that with his coppery red hair and thick smattering of freckles, he was most likely a Weasley. Aunt Walburga and Uncle Cygnus had been discussing how the Weasleys were blood traitors for years, just one of many families they chose to look down on. Gossip was a constant when it came to them, the kind that was whispered and harsh.

But right now this particular Weasley wasn't doing much to uphold his family name. "What'd you do?" the prefect asked, with a slightly wild grin. I wasn't sure whether to be worried or offended that he was taking the situation so lightly. The redhead merely scrunched up his face in annoyance.

"Nothin'!" he yelped. "It was a total accident, and she bloody well freaked out. I said sorry, but she still tried to lobotomize me with her wand." He leveled an accusing glare in my direction.

"I should've. It'd be an improvement," I snarked. Tonks snickered, but the prefect glanced at her quickly and she sidled away a little. I looked at my cousin for help, but the rest of the student body was leaving us behind and she skipped from foot to foot for a moment.

"Go on with the rest of the first years," the boy told Tonks as though reading our minds. "I'll drag these two into detention once we get up to the castle." The tall curly haired prefect smiled at Tonks and she grinned back before giving me a frantic wave, rushing off to join the rest of the crowd.

"Detention?" the freckled boy asked with a groan. "Can't you just... pretend nothin' happened? It's my first year, and my mum will kill me. Really. She will kill me." I gave a tiny smile, maliciously pleased that he was now pleading with the prefect. Serves him right—I still felt considerably singed.

The prefect then looked at me, a very frank stare that made me uncomfortable. He wasn't really so intimidating, but there was something very open and guileless about his expression that made me want to explain the situation. "He blasted off my eyebrows," I muttered, touching the mostly bald spots where I once had dark brows. The redhead was right when he said there was a bit of fuzz left. The tapered end of my right eyebrow was still somewhat intact, but funnily enough that didn't really make me feel any better.

* * *

The idiot and I were expected to get along on the boat ride, until the prefect could find a Professor to report the incident to. Either after or during the feast, I really didn't know. I felt like an axe would fall the moment he did. My first day and I was already getting in fights. The redhead's stupid, sulky face wasn't helping my mood. I glowered at him for most of the quiet ride in the bobbing boat.

It wasn't until the castle loomed into view like some vast, brilliantly bright dragon perched on the hillside that I let myself forget what felt like scorch marks on my cheeks. Hogwarts was bigger than I'd even dreamed it would be. The descriptions didn't come close to the actuality of it, and I knew that whatever I'd cooked up in my wildest imaginations would be blown out of the water by what truly lurked within those corridors.

I sensed the boy looking at me and saw him twist around in the boat to follow my line of sight. His eyes fell on the castle too, drawn instantly and inexorably, and I glanced at his face to see the gob smacked expression fall away into an excited smile so huge it puffed up his cheeks. My face probably looked the same.

With a plot forming, I eyed the boy until the boat bumped up against the shallow bottom of the lakeshore and the other first years began clambering out onto the pier jutting into the water. I stood up and grabbed hold of the hand held out to me, looking up and realizing the hand belonged to the same prefect who'd come between the redhead and my wrath.

"What's your name?" he asked me, giving a short smile as he then helped the boy out of the boat.

"Gemma Black," I said without hesitation. The prefect looked me over very quickly before asking the same question of the redhead.

"Charlie," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"Last name?" the prefect prompted, nudging the kid with his elbow as he pushed the two of us along to follow the others up from the lake and into the castle.

"Weasley." Charlie sighed despondently, apparently resigning himself to detention and whatever that would involve. I had no idea what detention would be like; Dez never got in trouble and her exploits at school weren't really anything to write home about unless she'd gotten yet another O grade. Sirius was probably the only one in my family who'd had _fun_ at Hogwarts; real fun.

I narrowed my eyes at Charlie when he fell into step beside me. "Did you do it on purpose?" I demanded of him in a hissed whisper, aware that the prefect was behind us, strolling along like our parole officer. There were other prefects around, helping the giant gamekeeper usher us all into the Entrance Hall. I fell silent the moment we were inside. It was strangely warm in the castle, a kind of soft golden glow suffusing the thick stone walls. It didn't feel draughty or empty or lonely, like some of the other castles in the English countryside. Maybe it was the magic, the generations of witches and wizards, that made it feel so inviting.

I smiled to myself, but Charlie distracted me with a snort. "No," he said, rolling his eyes. "Merlin's beard, how many times do I have to say I'm _sorry_?"

Choosing not to answer him, I stopped walking and instead waited for the prefect to overtake me before walking beside him. "Hi," I said with a slight smile. He looked down at me with a light in his eyes that made me think he was moments away from a chuckle. It seemed like a permanent state of being for him, which was why the badge on his chest was so confusing. Dez had been a prefect, and I hardly ever saw her laugh.

"Hullo," the prefect replied. "Need anything?"

"Yeah," I said, biting my bottom lip nervously. "Eyebrows? I really don't want to be sorted looking like this." I'd kept catching glimpses of myself in the lake water, and the thought of sitting in front of the entire school in my state was really starting to worry me. The prefect gave me a sympathetic smile and looked critically at my face. I swallowed and peered back at him, jumping when he suddenly reached out and grabbed Charlie by the back of the robes before he could slip away with the rest of the first years.

"I don't know any spells for growing back hair," the prefect said with a shrug. "Sorry, love." One of the professors, a tall and severe-looking woman with pursed lips called out sharply for the first years to follow her. The prefect gestured for us to go with her, and he slipped up to the front to talk to the woman.

"Mr Wesalen, you should be finding your seat by now," the professor said curtly when the prefect approached her. I watched, pushing forwards and leaning up on my tiptoes to hear.

"I know, professor, I just thought I'd let you know I caught two of our new first years battling it out at Hogsmeade Station. Something about an accidental spell and lobotomies. I figured I'd let you deal with it, since handing out a detention on the first day back just don't seem right to me." I had mixed feelings about this boy; he made the whole situation sound ridiculous and a bigger deal than it actually was, but at least he didn't _want_ to give me detention.

The professor sighed, her eyes rolling heavenward as the boy gave a rakish grin. "Reuben," the woman said, sorting the first years into alphabetical order with an eerie amount of skill and deftness. She clearly did this often. "You don't have to come to me every time you catch a student breaking the rules."

"Oh, I know... I just like deferring to your wisdom. No one has better judgement than you, Professor McG." Reuben Wesalen, prefect, received the most withering look from the professor, the kind that makes you wince, and yet he wasn't bothered at all by the tightness in the woman's expression. She shook her head.

"Go take your seat before the sorting begins," she said coolly. Reuben bobbed his head with a smile and then glanced my way, pointing to me and then Charlie.

"Those're them," he told the professor. "Gemma Black and Charlie Weasley. I like them. They'd be good additions to Gryffindor House, ma'am. Be sure to let the hat know."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something, a deep frown creating wrinkles in her brow, but Reuben was walking away down the line of first years. He shot a wink my way and I watched him go in confusion. Gryffindor? Not likely.


	2. Chapter 2

The idiot and I were expected to get along on the boat ride, until the prefect could find a Professor to report the incident to. Either after or during the feast, I really didn't know. I felt like an axe would fall the moment he did. My first day and I was already getting in fights. The redhead's stupid, sulky face wasn't helping my mood. I glowered at him for most of the quiet ride in the bobbing boat.

It wasn't until the castle loomed into view like some vast, brilliantly bright dragon perched on the hillside that I let myself forget what felt like scorch marks on my cheeks. Hogwarts was bigger than I'd even dreamed it would be. The descriptions didn't come close to the actuality of it, and I knew that whatever I'd cooked up in my wildest imaginations would be blown out of the water by what truly lurked within those corridors.

I sensed the boy looking at me and saw him twist around in the boat to follow my line of sight. His eyes fell on the castle too, drawn instantly and inexorably, and I glanced at his face to see the gob smacked expression fall away into an excited smile so huge it puffed up his cheeks. My face probably looked the same.

With a plot forming, I eyed the boy until the boat bumped up against the shallow bottom of the lakeshore and the other first years began clambering out onto the pier jutting into the water. I stood up and grabbed hold of the hand held out to me, looking up and realizing the hand belonged to the same prefect who'd come between the redhead and my wrath.

"What's your name?" he asked me, giving a short smile as he then helped the boy out of the boat.

"Gemma Black," I said without hesitation. The prefect looked me over very quickly before asking the same question of the redhead.

"Charlie," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"Last name?" the prefect prompted, nudging the kid with his elbow as he pushed the two of us along to follow the others up from the lake and into the castle.

"Weasley." Charlie sighed despondently, apparently resigning himself to detention and whatever that would involve. I had no idea what detention would be like; Dez never got in trouble and her exploits at school weren't really anything to write home about unless she'd gotten yet another O grade. Sirius was probably the only one in my family who'd had _fun_ at Hogwarts; real fun.

I narrowed my eyes at Charlie when he fell into step beside me. "Did you do it on purpose?" I demanded of him in a hissed whisper, aware that the prefect was behind us, strolling along like our parole officer. There were other prefects around, helping the giant gamekeeper usher us all into the Entrance Hall. I fell silent the moment we were inside. It was strangely warm in the castle, a kind of soft golden glow suffusing the thick stone walls. It didn't feel draughty or empty or lonely, like some of the other castles in the English countryside. Maybe it was the magic, the generations of witches and wizards, that made it feel so inviting.

I smiled to myself, but Charlie distracted me with a snort. "No," he said, rolling his eyes. "Merlin's beard, how many times do I have to say I'm _sorry_?"

Choosing not to answer him, I stopped walking and instead waited for the prefect to overtake me before walking beside him. "Hi," I said with a slight smile. He looked down at me with a light in his eyes that made me think he was moments away from a chuckle. It seemed like a permanent state of being for him, which was why the badge on his chest was so confusing. Dez had been a prefect, and I hardly ever saw her laugh.

"Hullo," the prefect replied. "Need anything?"

"Yeah," I said, biting my bottom lip nervously. "Eyebrows? I really don't want to be sorted looking like this." I'd kept catching glimpses of myself in the lake water, and the thought of sitting in front of the entire school in my state was really starting to worry me. The prefect gave me a sympathetic smile and looked critically at my face. I swallowed and peered back at him, jumping when he suddenly reached out and grabbed Charlie by the back of the robes before he could slip away with the rest of the first years.

"I don't know any spells for growing back hair," the prefect said with a shrug. "Sorry, love." One of the professors, a tall and severe-looking woman with pursed lips called out sharply for the first years to follow her. The prefect gestured for us to go with her, and he slipped up to the front to talk to the woman.

"Mr Wesalen, you should be finding your seat by now," the professor said curtly when the prefect approached her. I watched, pushing forwards and leaning up on my tiptoes to hear.

"I know, professor, I just thought I'd let you know I caught two of our new first years battling it out at Hogsmeade Station. Something about an accidental spell and lobotomies. I figured I'd let you deal with it, since handing out a detention on the first day back just don't seem right to me." I had mixed feelings about this boy; he made the whole situation sound ridiculous and a bigger deal than it actually was, but at least he didn't _want_ to give me detention.

The professor sighed, her eyes rolling heavenward as the boy gave a rakish grin. "Reuben," the woman said, sorting the first years into alphabetical order with an eerie amount of skill and deftness. She clearly did this often. "You don't have to come to me every time you catch a student breaking the rules."

"Oh, I know... I just like deferring to your wisdom. No one has better judgement than you, Professor McG." Reuben Wesalen, prefect, received the most withering look from the professor, the kind that makes you wince, and yet he wasn't bothered at all by the tightness in the woman's expression. She shook her head.

"Go take your seat before the sorting begins," she said coolly. Reuben bobbed his head with a smile and then glanced my way, pointing to me and then Charlie.

"Those're them," he told the professor. "Gemma Black and Charlie Weasley. I like them. They'd be good additions to Gryffindor House, ma'am. Be sure to let the hat know."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something, a deep frown creating wrinkles in her brow, but Reuben was walking away down the line of first years. He shot a wink my way and I watched him go in confusion. Gryffindor? Not likely.

* * *

I was one of the first people called to be sorted, courtesy of being a Black. Professor McGonagall wasn't at all sympathetic to my plight, pushing me out into the Great Hall after she called my name. I hesitated, sucked in a deep breath, and stomped to the front of the long, almost cavernous room. Ignoring the occasional giggle from the students I passed on my way to the sorting hat, I picked up the damned thing and yanked it down on my head.

My anger dimmed as a few long, silent moments passed. Nothing happened. Dez had said the hat would talk to me, that I'd hear it. But it wasn't saying anything. For a moment I thought maybe it was broken, like the magic had finally worn off and I was just sitting there with a normal, boring hat on my head.

Finally I heard a soft murmur, and I furrowed my brow as I listened. "You're an interesting shade of grey, for a Black," the hat was saying, almost distractedly. "A bit of a bite to you, but I don't know. A snake, or a lion? A hiss or a roar?" The hat trailed off, its voice sending uncomfortable chills up my spine, even more so than the words it was saying.

The hat opened its seam of a mouth and I wrinkled my nose as it shouted aloud: "Gryffindor!"

There was a pause, where I let go of the breath I'd been holding and looked at the table below the red and gold banners, billowing gently as though touched by a breeze. The table burst into cheers and welcoming shouts, but I wasn't sure I belonged in Gryffindor. My father and mother had been Slytherins. My sister was a Ravenclaw, but that was only because she was smarter than pretty much everyone. I was almost relieved, oddly enough, to learn maybe I was a little less Black than I thought, but it was still disappointing. I would be like my father, and like Sirius, cut away from the family tree as though I was nothing.

On unsteady legs, I stood—taking off the hat and setting it back on the stool first—and walked over to the Gryffindor table where I was engulfed in warm questions, most of them about my eyebrows and why I didn't have any. Then there was a familiar face with a big grin, pulling me down onto a space beside him on the bench.

"Gemma, right?" Reuben Wesalen said, tilting his head down to talk to me over the sound of Professor McGonagall calling the name of the next first year. I didn't hear it, stunned and content and strangely comfortable all of a sudden.

"Yah huh." My mother would've screeched if she'd heard those sounds slip from my mouth. She was the most articulate woman I knew, and had drilled a particular manner of speaking into my sister and I since before we could remember. But I just couldn't really think much on that at the time.

Reuben chuckled. "I knew you'd be a Gryffindor," the prefect said, squeezing my shoulder warmly before he turned around in his seat to watch the rest of the sorting. I followed his example, smiling when a few other people around me introduced themselves politely. I perked up as the next student was sorted into Gryffindor house, my eyes swiveling to spot the tall blonde girl bouncing her way to the table, sitting down not far from where I'd wound up.

She seemed more than happy to be there, smiling and chatting away as the sorting continued around us. I decided to pay more attention to the other students, noting their names and the houses the hat called out. The next one who arrived at the Gryffindor table was a doe-eyed brunette with a rather sneaky smile. Her name was Cora Day, and she flicked her bangs out of her eyes as she took her seat. There were a few Slytherins sorted after her, two more Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff, several Ravenclaws, and then I heard Tonks' name being called out.

I watched her with wide eyes as she slammed the sorting hat rather hastily on her head, her combat boots tapping anxiously on the floor. I desperately wished she'd be in Gryffindor with me, but the hat called out "Hufflepuff!" and I gave a slightly disappointed smile as my cousin's hair turned a suddenly violent shade of sunshine yellow. She trotted across the Great Hall to her table, her new house.

The rest of the sorting passed without any more new Gryffindors until _Weasley, Charlie_ rang out in Professor McGonagall's clear voice. I pursed my lips in irritation as my tormentor walked uncertainly up to the sorting hat. It was barely on his head before it was shouting out "Gryffindor!" and the table erupted into another round of cheers. I clapped along only when Reuben jostled me by the arm with a laugh.

"Called it!" I heard the prefect say as the redhead was swept in for several pats on his back. He was all of a sudden in his element, just as young and insecure as the rest of us, but he found himself beside yet another freckled redhead, and it was too uncanny not to notice the resemblance or the brotherly camaraderie. I was almost jealous at the way Charlie and his older brother, who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, got along.

With the sorting wrapped up not long after Charlie came to the Gryffindors, I was distracted by the Headmaster, sage old Professor Dumbledore with his half-moon glasses and auburn hair that was more than a little grey. He smiled benignly out us; his mere presence at the podium silenced the room. I swallowed and craned my neck to see him.

"Welcome to a new year," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice carrying to the very end of the Great Hall. "It's wonderful to see familiar faces, and a pleasure to see the new ones. I won't waste your time for very long. This year's feast is especially magical. But please remember, the Whomping Willow is not to be tickled by anyone. Thank you."

I frowned, confused, as the Professor smiled and returned to his seat at the head table with the other teachers. The Great Hall burst out into claps and whistles, which died down as the first course of the feast appeared on the tables in front of the hungry students. Reuben grabbed his plate and slapped down a large helping of mashed potatoes, smothering the mountain with rich gravy. He beamed at me. "Need a hand gettin' anything?" he asked, lightly pinching my arm. "These noodles of yours are kind of short."

"I can manage," I said, rolling my grey eyes as I picked up my plate and grabbed some of whatever was near. Everything looked delicious, from the juicy roasts to the perfectly baked bread, and the smell of it all was divine. I smiled as I filled my plate, watching the others at the Gryffindor table do the same, descending into happy and excited chatter with old friends and new ones.

Reuben stayed seated beside me for most of the meal, talking to me every now and again, asking about things like my favourite books—we somehow went an entire conversation without my surname being brought up once, which was strange considering the interest in Sirius after his conviction; I'd been treated like a criminal myself just for being his cousin. Eventually though Reuben patted my shoulder and moved down the table to find himself amongst other sixth years.

I watched everyone else as I slowly finished the food on my plate, jumping when someone flopped down beside me. It was the blonde girl who'd been sorted into Gryffindor after me. "Heya," she said with a grin, her hair twisted into a ponytail that was moments away from coming out. She had wisps of hair falling across her face that she tried to blow away as she reached for a bread roll from a basket.

"Hi," I said. The girl looked at me for a moment, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"One of my Dr. Fillibuster's fireworks went off in my face once," the girl told me. I didn't understand why she was telling me this until she went on. "Burned my hairline back a bit, and I didn't have eyebrows for weeks." She brushed her fine blonde brows and I sighed.

"It wasn't a fireworks related accident," I said. I lifted my hand and pointed at Charlie. "His wand backfired and I got hit by the bloody exhaust fumes." The girl nodded and laughed.

"You should go to the hospital wing, then," she pointed out sagely. "Madam Pomfrey can cure anything. I think. My brothers were always blowing up cauldrons in Potions class or falling off their brooms, so she can fix up boils and broken legs for certain."

I smiled. "Really? D'you think anyone would mind if I went now?" I perked up at this knowledge, pleased to have found someone who could actually point me in the right direction.

"I dunno," the blonde said as she looked around the Great Hall. "You might get lost if you go on your own. Triph got lost for a week on the sixth floor, during his first year. And he's the smart one out of my brothers. I'm Winter, by the way! I always forget to introduce myself. I've been talking to those girls over there since the feast started and they still don't know my name. I should work on that."

Part of me wanted to laugh at this girl, but she was nice and kind of sweet. "I'm Gemma," I told her. "And I'll get someone to take me." I pushed away from the table and stood up off the bench. "Thanks for your help, Winter!"

I strode deliberately down the length of the table until I found the curly mop of brown hair that was Reuben. I tapped his shoulder and gave him a frank look when he turned to look at me. His mouth was full of food and his cheeks were bulging. He chewed a few times then swallowed. "Gemma!" he greeted, catching me by the arm and tugging me down to squeeze me between himself and an Asian girl who shifted aside to make room for me. "I was wondering how you were doin'."

"Yeah," I said distractedly. "Look, can you take me to the hospital wing?" I hesitated when Reuben lifted his brows at me. "I think getting hit with that spell is starting to make me ill. My stomach hurts. And my head. Ooh… I think it's a migraine." I scrunched up my face as though I was in pain and clutched my head. Reuben gave me a worried look and nodded, setting his knife and fork down.

"No problem, little one," he said. I pulled an annoyed expression at the name, even though he meant it fondly, and yelped when he grabbed my hand and pulled me, tugging me towards the door of the Great Hall. I tripped for a moment before I steadied myself, frantically matching his long strides as he led me out into the Entrance Hall and then up the stairs. "You gonna puke? You're lookin' a little green."

I shrugged. "Maybe," I said, giving a weak and forced groan, wondering how the hell he was buying this. I really wasn't the most convincing actress, but Reuben still rushed me along. The hospital wing was completely empty except for a middle-aged woman playing a game with a deck of cards. She jumped up when Reuben pushed open the doors and we walked in.

"Dears, you should be at the feast!" the woman exclaimed. Reuben just gave a sheepish grin and let go of me to ruffle his hair.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but it was an emergency," he said. I winced when he gave me a knowing look, winking. All of a sudden I felt like an idiot.

"Not an emergency," I piped up. "I just- I, um, I got hit by an accidental spell and I didn't want to sit through the whole feast like this." I touched my brow and Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue, looking at me for a moment before she went to a cabinet against the wall and fished out a vial with a faded label.

"Hair growth serum," she announced, shaking her head. "Young girls are always so worried with the way they look. It's a shame. You're a perfectly pretty girl, with or without eyebrows." Reuben laughed and I clenched my jaw, watching the nurse pull the cork from the vial, take a cotton swap from a glass container, and dip it into the potion before she held my face still with her fingers. She swept the wet end of the cotton swap across my brows, moving it in a clean arched line two separate times before she stepped back and smiled slightly. "There you go, dear."

My hands flew back to my forehead as my skin began to tingle, and I grinned when I felt the fine texture of my eyebrows.

"Fantastic," Reuben said. "You look as good as new. But I'm a little worried about her still, Madam Pomfrey. The spell she got hit with seemed quite strong. I was there, I saw it. And she was complaining about an upset stomach and a migraine and… maybe it'd be best if she stayed overnight, just in case?" I gaped at the prefect, frowning—my brows blessedly drawing together.

"I'm fine, really," I started to say. "I'll see myself out! Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I really appreciate it." I turned to leave, but Reuben's arm was blocking my way and the nurse was hustling over, pressing her palm to my forehead as I looked at her wild-eyed.

"You have a temperature," she mused. "Maybe you should stay a while longer. Let me give you a clean bill of health, dear, to be on the safe side." I sighed, catching Reuben's amused smile as he nodded.

"I'd better be going then," the prefect said, patting my shoulder. I glowered at him, though really it was my own fault I was even there and in this situation; he'd just decided to play me. Part of me wanted to get him back for it when Madam Pomfrey stuck a thermometer in my mouth and steered me over to sit down on a hospital cot, but in some respects I had asked for it. I resigned myself to thinking up pranks I could pull on the prefect, daydreaming in the hospital wing after he left.


End file.
